Hope of the Doctor
by Fezfoze
Summary: (Multi-Doctor story) Hope. A dismal concept. Yet it is the pure lifeblood that drives the Doctor forward in every life he has lived, something that he still believes in with every ounce of his being. No longer. His attempts at escaping his fate are almost pitiful. No matter. He wants hope? I'll give him hope. I've already won. Never forget, Doctor: "Armada, they live"
1. Prologue

_I have always believed in that the strongest of men are those that never back down from an opportunity to prove themselves. The ones who are able to ignite their innermost flames of anger, passion, and desire without even stopping to think,without even hesitating in order to consider the outcomes of their actions, be it the suffering of their innocent victims, the heart wrenching guilt that can stay with a man until death do them apart, or even death itself._

 _This is where the Doctor falls short._

 _It's sad, but I'm afraid it is true._

 _The Doctor is a man of intense emotion. It is perhaps his greatest downfall. He has allowed it to guide himself through every adventure he has ever had, allowed it to show him the light at the end of every tunnel when all signs of hope appeared to have been decimated, and throughout every life the Doctor has lived, it has made him weak._

 _Picture this if you will:_

 _The Doctor, faced with a predicament of his own creation, stuck with the choice of killing to save billions. How many? It doesn't matter. For the Doctor, one life is just as precious as the rest._

 _Now. If the tables were turned slightly, if the Doctor's only way out of his own mess was to sacrifice himself for the greater cause…_

 _Tell me, which of those acts would the Doctor be more likely to carry out?_

 _You'd better off by not insulting your own intelligence._

 _The Doctor is weak and he admits it._

 _Sacrifice most of the human race to wipe the Daleks from existence using the delta wave?_

 _Coward._

 _Murder in cold blood every citizen aboard a star ship destined to roam the stars in order to rescue the last star whale in existence?_

 _Pathetic._

 _The list could go on. I do suppose though, it could be argued that this mind-set is necessary for one whose primary function in life is to protect the universe. Then again, perhaps not. After all:_

 _It's precisely the reason that he's dead._

 _Well, as good as dead._

 _You see, I exploited all of the Doctors' greatest weaknesses, not just his compassion. I bent the rules of reality and time itself out of shape in an effort to rid the world of the filth that calls itself a time-lord._

 _I suppose this is the point at which the most important question of the hour is asked, by the small childlike voice of hope._

 _"Who are you?"_

 _Oho, my child. That is a question, for which the answer will come, ironically enough, in time._

 _For now however, there is a deeper, darker question-_

 _No, call it a message, for what remains of the Doctor, all that he stands for, and all that he has done. If there are possibly any left to be found for the man, it very well may be his one chance of survival, should he take heed of my warning._

 ** _"Armada, they live"_**

 _If you are smart enough Doctor, and I do hope that in over two thousand years you have become so, you will understand. Once you do, what remains of you will become nothing more than a memory tarnished by my hand. A stain on the commandments of the universe._

 _Now, it is time to do what you do best._

 _Run, Doctor…_

 _Run._


	2. Chapter 1: Reminiscing

The First doctor stood for a moment, both arms resting gently on his cane, his coat flapping marvellously in the breeze, his frosted hair rippling and reflecting the sunbeams, gazing at the stunning scenery of Gallifrey.

The TARDIS rested a few hundred yards behind him, humming softly, recharging, as the Doctor liked to call it. He took a deep breath. In, and then back out.

The Doctor was overlooking a gigantic creek, teeming to the brim with countless species of Gallifreyan nature and life. In the very few times the Doctor had visited here, he could quite confidently say that despite his relatively short lifespan, as well as owning a doorway to anywhere in the universe, this was just about the most beautiful and astonishing place he had ever been.

Of course, this was not a regular trip. A pit stop, if you will. The Doctor was quite aware that after, "meddling" with other planets affairs, as the time lords put it, he was no longer welcome on Gallifrey, and surely wouldn't be treated as a hero should the high council discover him there.

And so, the Doctor stood, eyes shut, taking in the warm breeze, with what appeared to be a small sliver of a smile forming at the edge of his mouth.

"This. This is peace." said the Doctor quietly. A small silver leaf fluttered gently down from seemingly nowhere and landed on his shoulder.

One eye immediately opened. After staring at it for a moment, he chuckled, and without brushing it away, stared out above the creek.

Far away in the distance, like a tiny stationary bubble, from this perspective at least, stood the Citadel.

Times like these were peaceful on Gallifrey. The Citadel stood proud and tall, yet looked as lifeless and desolate as the wastelands.

The Wastelands.

The Doctor grunted, and brushed the leaf away. Memories seemed to fuel the Doctors' prickly persona these days. His time on Gallifrey before he left, the Master… and Susan.

He sniffed and turned abruptly on his heels.

"There's no point living in the past my dear", the Doctor muttered softly.

"All in good time. All in good time."

The Doctor began to pace his way back to his TARDIS, one hand on the cane, one holding the lapel of his coat with a firm but fare grip.

After a minute or two, the Doctor found himself at the foot of the TARDIS. The humming had progressed to become more rhythmic now, soothing to the Doctors' ears. He reached out and gently took a hold of the handle. In response, there was a calm variation of the cloister bell that rang out and echoed throughout the creek.

"Well then", he managed.

"Where to now then eh?", he looked down at the ground.

"Infernal piece of machinery, the only place I can have a say in when and where we go is the one place I must never go altogether…"

The cloister bell rang out again. The Doctor looked up, and with almost no difficulty, formed a smile.

"I do happen to wonder sometimes…", he stopped.

"Preposterous".

He turned up his nose and twisted to take in one final glance of the creek, only to find himself facing the hand that was still holding the handle seconds later. His sneer subsided, and was replaced with a warming look of compassion and kindness.

"I believe that the future holds many great things for us my dear", he began. "Not just great things, _extraordinary_ things! And not just for you and I, you know, oho no, no, the universe holds many secrets throughout, and we must be the ones to uncover them, but not alone. We will meet _fantastical_ new allies and friends along the way, and we will show them, that being free is nothing to fear, or run from, and it is most certainly not a weakness. Being free can allow one to see the greater aspects of life, and from whatever experience I have gained in my short life, I would proclaim that we have more than enough time to get started, and stuck in. So what do you say? We've got the rest of our lives ahead of us, and I'm sure, that whatever the future may hold for all of us, it will be glorious. Glorious indeed."

Somewhat proud with his own self-empowering speech, the Doctor nodded to himself, took in one final breath of the cool, crisp air, and with a creak, opened the door to the TARDIS.

* * *

 _Normally, that would be that. If the universe was able to have its way, the Doctor would've stepped into that TARDIS, and flown away from Gallifrey, never to return to that specific spot. However. The Doctor is never one for listening to rules. Not even the universes. Oh. Of course. How hypocritical of myself. Nevertheless, his constant and relentless need to jump throughout time like a meddling space hopper has altered reality ever so slightly. Of course, by slightly, I mean enough to tear apart the entire multiverse. Oh Doctor, when will you learn that escape from your fate is inevitable? By my hand, you're already dead. Only three of your incarnations remain to wander freely throughout space and time. You may see interacting with them as a last resort at finding hope, but I merely see it as an act as useless as setting a broken neck. You may have it your way for now Doctor, but purely because I have grown bored of how easy it has become to kill you. All will be explained in time, but for now, the message still remains, and you must do what only you can Doctor._

 _Run._


	3. Chapter 2: Arrivals

Somewhat proud with his own self-empowering speech, the Doctor nodded to himself, took in one final breath of the cool, crisp air, and with a creak, opened the door to the TARDIS.

About to step through the doorway and be greeted by infinite possibilities of destinations, he stopped. Something was… Off. The Doctor twitched his nose as if determining something.

Not satisfied with the outcome, he frowned, and stepped back out of the TARDIS, shutting the door tightly. He squinted at the surrounding area. Everything was the exactly the same as it had been five minutes ago, but something was not right.

He put his finger in his mouth, and held it in the air for about ten seconds, his eyes constantly darting around, watching for some change, any change, in the atmosphere.

For about a minute, nothing animated the setting except for the sound of the breeze against his ears, but even that in itself had become ominous. The Doctor had seen this before. He delved deep into his mind for any hint that could possibly allude to what was causing this phenomenon, when the realisation struck. The Doctor took a sharp but confined intake of air, and then exhaled a shaky breath.

"The time vortex…" he whispered, "But that's-"

His sentence was cut short by a deafening screech that echoed around the valley, bringing the Doctor's train of thought heaving back down to earth.

His cane clattered to the floor, as did the Doctor to his knees, clutching his ears desperately. If he screamed in pain, no one would have heard. The sound was like pitchforks scrapping down a million blackboards, amplified a thousand times. At least, that's what Susan would say. The Doctor would never say something so childish. He held on to that thought.

Through immense pain, the Doctor slowly but surely made it to his feet, and barely managed to open an eye. The air had become wavy, like those heat waves you would see on a scorching day. Down in the creek, trees were becoming bare with the pure force of the sudden outburst, leaves erupting in all directions, and the wildlife was either running in complete terror, or was writhing in pain. The apparent necessity to keep his ears from ruin was pointless, covering his ears did nothing.

The Doctor calmed himself for a moment. Somehow, he had to think. He darted between the when's, the where's, and the why's of the situation before shaking his head violently. Too many questions to handle at this point. He let out a roar that was halfway between fear, frustration, and pain. He had decided. He had to take a gamble.

He very carefully reached into the inside of his coat, and pulled out a small silver pole shaped object, wrapped in wires and lights. His eyesight blurred, and with one hand still on his left ear, he pointed the screwdriver at the TARDIS, and held down the button.

Almost immediately, the screeching stopped, leaving an awful ringing in the Doctors' ears. The Doctor cried out in sheer relief and collapsed onto one knee, trying to shake the wasps he felt obliterating the inside of his head like a mental pinball machine. The torment however, didn't end there. No sooner had the sound ceased, a gigantic shockwave pulsated from the TARDIS, knocking the Doctor back several yards. The wave travelled outwards in a spherical form countless times. It flew at a speed incomprehensible to even the Doctor, stopped only by a bulging anomaly in the sky that had formed the moment the wave had reached that point.

With each wave that hit the anomaly, it grew, like a water balloon, fit to burst. It was only once the final wave had made contact, that it shattered, glass-like fragments of cosmic energy spewing in all directions, tearing a paradoxical pocket in the sky. A void to another time and place.

The time vortex had just been forced open like splitting a hole in the side of a tube. Something travelling through it had stopped at this precise moment in time and space, unable to exit. The remaining flow of energy had become backed up, the rogue object or person becoming the cholesterol to the vortex's artery.

This was the time vortex's equivalent of a stroke.

If the time vortex itself had been fighting this hard to prevent it, something extremely dangerous was clearly about to make its way through.

The Doctor had managed to pull himself up by this point. He felt his forehead, and flinched at his own touch. A large tender bulge had appeared, but this was hardly the most important problem he had to deal with.

The Doctor watched as the void began to grow exponentially in the sky, electrical energy surging throughout it like a storm cloud. The Doctor frowned, and without the help of the cane, rose to his feet yet again. Watching the void carefully, he was prepared for whatever horrors would come through that rift, he was prepared for whatever-

The Doctors' thought process was cut short again. This time however, by the sound of something rather familiar. Sinisterly familiar.

A wheezing. Not an ordinary wheezing. It was… In pain. It started off quiet, almost unnoticeable, but the volume grew, until the Doctor, rather reluctantly, concluded what it was.

The Doctor's eyebrows parted.

"But, but it can't be…"

The void exploded in dazzling light, and what appeared to be a cuboid box was spat out of it at light speed.

It twisted and turned in the air, a rippling trail of black smoke in its wake, the cloister bell ringing desperately, the wheezing sounding slow and juddering.

With milliseconds to determine his next move, the Doctor lunged to gain a safe position behind his own TARDIS. He remained deathly still for what seemed like an eternity, even to the point where there appeared to be silence, and then there was impact.

The landing of the box decimated the outpost almost entirely, shards flying high into the air, the impact sending up a spew of displaced earth that covered the Doctor from head to toe. The almighty _crunch_ that came with the landing was the second sound to echo throughout the valley that day. It took a few minutes for silence to befall the valley once more, and for the rubble to come to rest. The Doctor bided his time long after the aftershocks had diminished, shell shocked with the gravity of what he had just witnessed. At last, he gained the mental willpower to peer around the edge of the TARDIS.

He saw that she was still standing, albeit the fact that the outer casing had been painted with a sooty streak, with large chunks of rock protruding out from the front awkwardly. The cloister bell rang a triumphant yet strained note.

The Doctor swallowed. "But what possibly?..."

A small wind current washed over the ruined outpost, revealing the consequences of the crash. The outpost had become misshapen, no longer flat and calming, but with all the connotations of a war zone. It made one thing perfectly visible to the Doctor. The impact zone. Dead in the centre, about 10 feet down, immersed within a crater, lying at a 45-degree angle, was a TARDIS.

Due to the sheer violence of the re-entry and landing, an indecipherable patchwork of letters above the doorway reading, "POL..C.. B...X" , was barely coherent enough to understand.

"That's…That's my…"

The Doctor didn't want to say another word. It was clear what it was, but he needed be sure. He needed to know why before he did anything senseless.

Approaching the TARDIS as if were a dormant beast, the Doctor cautiously made his way over lumps and shards of fractured rock, to the box that was slowly withering away into nothingness, yet was hanging on for all it was worth. He carefully climbed down into the crater, taking extra care in not slipping, and found himself face to face with the door, a giant crack splitting it almost in two. A substance was bubbling between the crack that the Doctor quickly gathered to be the interior dimensions becoming dangerously close to leaking to the outside.

He extended his arm with the intention of opening the door when his conscience overrode his mind.

"Safety"

"Paradoxes"

"Death"

He toiled with these points for a moment, admitting to himself that they rose a valid argument. One thought however, kept rushing straight back to the front of his mind.

"I must know", he said out loud.

He crouched down to be level with the door and reached out a shaking hand for the handle. Almost as if on que, the doors flew open, releasing a wars worth of tar black smoke, so thick, that when the Doctor attempted to waft it away, it was comparable to running his fingers through water. This alarming act prompted the Doctor to take a few involuntary steps back, startled. Smoke continued to billow from the doorway, rising upwards and dissipating into the sky. the Doctor dared not move any closer.

'Hello?... Is somebody there?..." he called out, somewhat expectant of an answer. When none came, he became stuck for options. Should he give up his position on Gallifrey and find help? Or abandon this TARDIS that was impossibly similar to his own, and had just appeared to spit upon the laws of time? After weighing up both options, and finalising that obviously neither would do, he grunted.

"Very well", he said at last, "I suppose this is a matter that I must take into my own hands".

He took off his coat and undid his cravat, never taking his eyes away from the open doorway in fear that something or someone would emerge from it.

He folded his coat and cravat neatly and left them delicately on the shattered remains of a ruined rock.

Once he was ready, he straightened himself up, brushed himself down, and with a deep breath, and a small comment about how ridiculous the situation was, he crouched down, and stepped over the threshold and inside the broken husk of the TARDIS.

* * *

 _And so it begins. The Doctor's final conquest._

 _Pointless, and time wasting. Honestly? It's almost pitiful. The fact that he thinks he can truly win this one. I'll give him hope for now. It extends the playing time. I've won already. I'm going to win, I'm winning, and I've already won. But a little hope is a decent enough of a catalyst to bring a little fun to the chessboard. Which incarnation of yours could possibly have to bluntest stupidity to risk the entire multiverse? The space hobo? The brash one with his Technicolor nightmare-coat? No… They're already mine… In the long run, it neither matters, nor do I care. Three incarnations Doctor. Three miserable excuses of a man that is supposed to possess a symbolic value of hope. The first, is your first. Old, yet young, with an open mind, oblivious to the horrors that the cosmos has yet to offer him. The next is out gallivanting throughout history and the future, enjoying his adventures while the opportunity still presents itself, and the last? Well. The last has just escaped my clutches by puncturing a hole in the time vortex to create a paradox of cataclysmic proportions, and is currently in a life or death situation inside of his own TARDIS. Ironic. Enjoy what time you have left Doctor. There isn't much. To complete the game, you must play it. Remember the message Doctor. If there is any chance of survival, that is it._


	4. Chapter 3: Rescue

The relative dimensional stabilisers had undeniably become heavily damaged in the crash. Only partly operational, imagine wandering through one of those rotating fun houses in which balance passes to be irrelevant. Disorientated by the sudden shift in gravity, the Doctor floundered aimlessly for something to hold onto. He eventually found a railing to his right, and hung on for dear life until his body had adapted to the change. During this phase, the Doctor had time to make sense of his surroundings. The smoke almost entirely opaque, the console room was scarcely distinguishable by features alone, albeit for what the Doctor had assumed to be the console itself, for upon it, occasional red flashing lights would illuminate dimly, and then darken out of view again slowly, bright enough to be noticeable through the obsidian wall of darkness.

"Of course!" the Doctor said suddenly. He fumbled for his screwdriver once again and brought it out from his pocket. Fiddling with it for a brief few seconds, adjusting a few wires here and there, he pressed the button down firmly, and a blinding beam of white light shot out from the screwdriver and pierced the blackness, revealing portions of the console room. The Doctor grinned.

"Primitive, but effective", he muttered softly.

The newly illuminated console room didn't bring much hope to the Doctor however. It was of course, bigger on the inside, but where ever it was pointed revealed more destruction than he would've cared to have seen. The console, almost obliterated, with the remaining functional pieces of hardware merely letting out a lone warning signal. The central column, torn completely away from where it was clearly meant to be attached to the ceiling and the centre of the console, was nowhere to be seen. Elsewhere, singed remains of books, chalkboards, metal plates and railings lay littered about every conceivable corner. This TARDIS was an absolute devastation, and as far as the Doctor could gather, it pained him to admit to himself that there was next to no hope of returning this ship to its former state.

Observing all of this, the Doctor came to a conclusion. While this was his TARDIS on the outside, it was most certainly was not his TARDIS on the inside. All futuristic and complicated, most definitely not his style.

The Doctor let go of the railing slowly and hovered his hand cautiously over it just in case. Satisfied that he had adjusted to the dimensions, he turned, and took a step forward. The metal plate underneath his foot creaked and jarred slightly. He decided to call out.

"Hello?..."

His statement echoed eerily around the room, and through the endless corridors of the ship before dying out. No answer. The Doctor swallowed, and stepped over a splintered chalkboard that mysteriously had a singular word written dead in the centre.

"LISTEN".

Pressing deeper into the console room, the sound of fried electrical circuits was starting to become alarming, and the wails of the ships inner support arches were signalling the console rooms' entire collapse. If there was anyone in this TARDIS, it was vital that the Doctor locate him _now_.

Before panic of this potential disaster could sink in, the Doctor was made aware of a small beeping originating from his own screwdriver.

"What in the heavens?"

He smacked it against the palm of his hand and then held it to his ear, as if listening for some kind of confirmation. Clearly, it came, when the Doctor, briefly distracted from the danger threatening to envelop him, held the screwdriver out in front of himself, beaming from ear to ear.

"You… You, _marvellous_ thing you!"

Once again, he returned to fiddling with the screwdriver, ignoring the increasingly alarming sounding creaks from above. Turning the torch setting off, he pressed a few wires, gave it a few taps on his arm, and the tip lit up a bright blue, as well as activating a small buzzing noise that sounded every few seconds. Momentarily, the Doctor waited somewhat eagerly in anticipation of something, the buzzing continuing incessantly, searching.

"You've sensed another sonic device haven't you? Wonderful", the Doctor said. "Now where, are you?", dragging out his words.

Almost inaudibly, another buzzing noise, slightly higher in pitch, made itself known. The Doctor spun round instantaneously, and trying to stay wary of the unstable sections of the floor, followed the sound. It was rhythmic, in time with his own, first his, then the other, then his again, and so on. Like a tennis rally. He held the screwdriver at eye level, squinting, trying to deduce where it was coming from, before he let out a cry in shock, nearly tripping over a stray railing and falling through a hole in the ground, in which the central column must had torn through, something the smoke had obscured to him earlier, even with a light source.

Organising himself and his dignity, the Doctor peered into the hole. Nothing visible. Not even the light from the screwdriver would've pierced it. He listened carefully, the signal between the two devices was becoming weaker by the minute.

First his screwdriver buzzed, no response from the other.

His screwdriver buzzed again, and the other device made a strangled attempt at buzzing before the connection between the two was lost. It came from within the hole.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Of course it would. Where else? And how would you suggest that I make my way down there hmm?" he called out, his voice reverberating off of the walls once again. An almighty crunch was what sounded in response as one of the support arches behind the Doctor collapsed, spilling dust and rubble all over him. He turned around and opened his mouth to give the poor machine a piece of his mind, when his eye caught glance of a stairway, leading down to underneath the main console. He cleared his throat, shook whatever substance he could from his hair, and stepped as gently as he could onto the first step. It groaned in protest, but it held. The next step was the same, as it was consistently until the bottom, at which the Doctor leaped less than gracefully over a large protrusion of metal that was blocking the staircase.

Now underneath the upper level, the Doctor looked up. He could just about make out the hole in which the central column had fallen through. Following its apparent pathway from the upper level down with his eyes, he crept carefully towards the space at which he assumed the column to be, and saw that his theory had been correct. He eyed it carefully. Somewhere around here, was the secondary sonic device, and perhaps even its owner.

From the bottom, he traced it up. Fragmented remains of an inner glass cylinder lay, shattered and useless. The main column however, was surprisingly intact. Mid-way, the remaining inner tubes stuck out of the side, razor-sharp. Nearing the top, the column's jagged circumference made the Doctor wince. The amount of force that had torn it from its central podium. He shuddered, but nevertheless, continued searching for the device.

A small sparkle caught the Doctor's eye. Believing it to be a remnant of glass, he almost didn't look twice. The glint was a startling blue, and came from close to the column. Smoke and darkness still blinding his vision, the Doctor crouched to take a closer inspection. Finalising that it was not in fact a piece of glass, he reached out for it, and was taken aback in shock when he understood what two things he was looking at.

The first, was the secondary sonic device. About the same length as his own, this model was far more complex, with rising blue light functions on the main node, with a golden symmetrical handle, layered with rivets and bumps.

The second was the hand that was holding it.

Taking in an involuntary sharp intake of air, the Doctor inhaled the fumes and spluttered uncontrollably for a few moments. Once he composed himself, he leant over the column in despair.

On the other side, out of view from where the Doctor was previously standing, was an lifeless figure. A man, aged approximately a little younger in appearance than the Doctor himself. He was dressed in an Edwardian style getup, complete with a waistcoat, shirt, and red velvet coat, all ripped and charred almost to shreds. His facial expression however, was one of someone peacefully sleeping. Cuts and burns covered his face, the smoke had changed the shade of his skin, his wavy silvered hair was a filthy mess, and the column was directly on top of the left side of his body, save for his arm protruding from underneath.

The Doctor thrust two fingers into the underside of the mans jaw. A pulse. It was slow, but it was there.

"Thank the heavens", he breathed.

It appeared as though the central column and fallen directly on top of the man at the moment of impact, the sheer weight and force of the object throwing them like rag-dolls down to the lower level, tearing through the steel flooring as though it were balsa wood.

The Doctor examined the man, his eyes darting over his body, diagnosing possible injures and considering different outcomes. The fall must've at least shattered a few ribs, and as for internal bleeding? The Doctor tried not to think about that. He looked up. The interior of the ship was falling apart like a house of cards. Staring back down at his predicament, he mulled over his options. The most obvious would be to shatter the glass using the sonic, freeing the man. The Doctor shook his head. Of course he couldn't, activating any sort of sonic wave in an environment as unstable as this would surely have destructive side effects. Once again, he found himself, rather against his own will, settling on the most primitive option available.

"Oh, why me?" he questioned fiercely.

He plucked the other sonic from the mans grip and placed both in his pocket, before he stood up and rubbed his hands together, afterwards rolling both sleeves up, before cracking his neck, and then his fingers.

"I'm getting far too old for such nonsense"

He leant back down and positioned his arms in the best position he could underneath the column. With a mighty heave, the Doctor strained every muscle at his disposal. The Doctor had no idea how much it would've weighed, but he would never have anticipated it to have been this much. It was designed to be an essential part of a TARDIS, not a dumbbell. Fragments of glass that were not attached fell and chipped against the floor. The metal grates that had followed through with the column let out a shrill screech, followed by a ugly sounding _clang_ , as it moved them out of place. With gargantuan effort, the Doctor rose, his legs teetering on the brink of folding under him. Never one for giving up, and taking shallow consumptions of air, he tensed, and rotated at a painfully slow rate. At a full 180-degrees from where he started, the Doctor could no longer handle the dead weight of the column, and relinquished his hold. The column hit the ground with a solid thud, shaking the ground somewhat.

The Doctor gasped for whatever air he could, lurched over, hands on his knees. A red mist was beginning to fade over his vision. But he shook it off.

"Not…yet", he grunted.

He arched his back and then staggered over to where the man lay. The damage was now easier to see. The mans shoulder had become violently dislocated from the force at which the column had hit him. There was also a large shard of glass sticking out awkwardly from his side.

There was no time to attempt waking the man up. The Doctor stepped over him, and lifted him up into a seated position. His head lulled forward. Careful not to worsen any unseen injuries, the Doctor lifted the man into his arms. While nowhere near as heavy as the central column, it was still a challenge.

"My dear boy, what is it you eat that makes you weigh such a substantial amount?" the Doctor inquired, almost as a half-hearted attempt at inserting some humour into the setting. Unbeknownst to the Doctor, the mans lips had parted a microscopic amount. He breathed out an attempted formation of words almost subconsciously.

"Ar…Arma…They…li…li.."

The Doctor was far too busy focusing on how to get off of this TARDIS to notice the mans mysterious attempt at speech.

Clambering clumsily over obtrusions, and step after agonising step, the Doctor made his way back to the top of the stairway, ignoring their imminent collapse. He delicately chose the placement of his footing, making sure to keep his journey as calm and as smooth as possible so as to not worsen the injuries the man had already sustained. Retracing his steps, and memorising the spots that housed rubble and ruined innards of the machine, the Doctor caught sight of the only source of natural light, in the form of a rectangular doorway. The mans arm fell limp at his side. Noticing this, the Doctor mildly shook him.

"Now, now my boy. I didn't come this far risking life and limb for you to die on me. Stay with me, do you hear?"

The TARDIS gave one final moan in despair before it let go at last. The supporting arcs all collapsed simultaneously. The roof began caving in, and portions of the ceiling fell like hailstones. The Doctor was merely five strides away from the door. He looked down at the man, he was growing paler with every second. He had no intention of leaving the man behind, but if the Doctor died in his place, what would be the point of his rescue? The Doctor burrowed his eyebrows deep into the bridge of his nose. One chance. He dug in his foot, and hoping that his timing was perfect, pushed off from the ground just as the console room collapsed, the momentum throwing him, and the man out of the door, and onto the hard rocks of the outpost. The doors to the TARDIS shut with a final clap behind them, the muffled rumbling juddering the box.

The Doctor sat up and eyed the doors in horror. He had been under the impression that a TARDIS was indestructible, impervious to destruction of this magnitude. It wasn't just the time vortex and impact that had done this. He was sure of it. The TARDIS doors remained shut tight, and thankfully, the rumbling eventually dissipated. The small light atop of the TARDIS dimmed slowly until the light died out altogether. Silence. The Doctor blinked, and opened his mouth, hesitant to speak his next set of words.

"Thank you" He remarked softly.

The man. The Doctor turned to face him. In the sunlight, the Doctor saw what the darkness prevented him from seeing. It was worse than he originally thought. He crawled over to him and checked his pulse once again. Still alive. Tough guy. The Doctor let out a sigh of relief, and then coughed.

He craned his neck upwards in the direction of the rim of the crater, the sudden change in light affecting his vision. He looked back down at the man, and then rolled onto his back, chuckling.

He lay there for a moment, before rising to his feet and brushing the soot from his hair and clothes.

"Right then young man." He said, sounding oddly calm. Collecting his coat, he lay it over the man as the equivalent of a blanket, and threw his cravat over his own shoulder. He scooped him up from where he lay, and began his trek back out of the crater and back to his own TARDIS.

"It looks to me as though you need a Doctor"


	5. Chapter 4: Containment

**_Authors note:_**

 ** _Heya, figured I may as well break the authors silence on this. Didn't want anyone thinking that I was an emotionless, heartless dude. For those who are actually taking their time to read this, thank you so much, you have no idea what that means to me. For this piece especially, I am really passionate about, I've had the idea for it for months, planning it out in my head, before remembering weeks ago that I actually had a account that I hadn't used since 2012. Go figure. Just a little background info on this story before I go any further. First of all, I won't be putting any character names in the summary, so as not to ruin anything prematurely for any new readers. Secondly, I know some of the chapters are quite short, but with what I want to do with this, some of them have to be, don't worry, some will be longer than others. Thirdly, this story will include characters that purely exist within the Doctor Who universe, so that means no OC's. If that's your thing, sorrrrrrryyyy, but I wanted to try something a little different to what I usually see while browsing for stories. Thirdly, yes, if you haven't already guessed, this is a multi-Doctor story. Lastly, like I said, I'm passionate about this story, so I plan to update regularly, and make it as long and engaging as I can. If you wanna follow me on that journey, I would love it more than you know. So there we have it. Now that you know I'm actually a fun loving person, with a little bit of a wacky side, shall we continue?_**

* * *

 _Some time previously, at another time, at another place_

"Hellooooo? Anyone? Oi! Tall, dark and ugly! I'd like to file a complaint about the quality of hospitality here!"

The 12th Doctor rattled his shackles as an attempt to gain some sort of attention. He puffed out, and once again, attempted to break the chains away from the wall. Expectantly, he did nothing more than allowing for the cuffs on both wrists and ankles to dig in sharply. He winced and attempted to adjust them.

Observing his surroundings, the Doctor grimaced. A cell, about 12 square feet in every direction, housed him. The cell was dismal and dingy, stone slabs forming the room, condensation dripping from the ceiling here and there. Horizontal bars formed by laser beams ensured his captivity, and outside them, there was no evidence of an entry to the cell, let alone an exit. Accepting that no one would answer his request, the Doctor sat down and lay back, staring at the ceiling. He twiddled his thumbs, his expression blank, mulling over the details of his imprisonment.

|§|

The TARDIS doors were forced open by a deluge of a water torrent, the Doctor tumbling in with it. Spluttering, he clambered to his feet, slipping a few times, trying simultaneously to push the water back out and rise to his feet. After failing to do either, he crawled manically the doors, and slammed them shut, collapsing in a heap against the doors, breathing heavily. The remaining water poured down through the metal flooring spilling onto and flooding the lower level. Catching his breath, the Doctor mopped his sodden hair back from his brow, and let out a small chuckle of laughter. He stayed with it until he was soon entirely in stiches, his laugh brightening the console room. Once he had composed himself, he clambered to his feet.

"Oh, the wonders of introducing fire to a race of purely water based beings" he sighed, wiping a tear from his eye. His squelched over to the console and prodded a few buttons, water still streaming from his saturated clothing.

"Perhaps let's go somewhere a little less…", he looked down at himself.

"Humid…next time?"

He gave a toothy grin.

He pulled a lever on the console and a beam of transparent yellow light enveloped his figure. He emerged from it a few moments later as dry as a bone.

"Ah, there we are… So, where too next? Earth, 1829 for another ride on Stephenson's rocket? The royal wedding between the slugs of the Bornorak Empire? Oh! How about, a trip to the salt flats of Eighflattium? Went there once to resolve a slight dispute between the locals. Turns out one of them had just stolen a boiled egg. Which reminds me!"

Arms in the air, he spun around and ran up the stairs to the upper level outlining the outside of the console room. Scanning the bookshelves thoroughly he picked out an old earth recipe book, and flicked through the pages as he made his way back to the console.

"Keith Floyd promised me donkeys years ago that he'd make me a mean fried egg sandwich as soon as I'd dealt with the Zygons that were terrorising Bristol. Might as well take him up on that offer"

With one hand, his fingers danced over the controls, before he reached out and pulled down the dematerialisation lever, the book never breaking contact with his eyes. The central column began its slow rise and fall motion, and briefly, everything was calm.

The TARDIS without warning however, jarred to a halt, the lights flickering, and the engines giving a low, mournful powering down sound. The Doctor looked up from the book and pulled a frown. He placed it down and grabbed the monitor, spinning it round so that he could see it.

"Okaaaay…" he said. "This is new…" he fiddled with the controls and levers before attempting to dematerialise for a second time. The lever came down easily, but with no effect. The Doctor raised an eyebrow. He flung the lever up and down multiple times. Still nothing. He pulled the monitor back around to face him and studied it carefully.

"So we've just stopped in the middle of the time vortex have we? Just stopped. That's it is it? No warning no nothing, just zilch, wallop, bang, we're stranded here in the middle of nowhere?"

The Doctor rubbed an eye in frustration, breathing heavily outwards through gritted teeth. His mind racing with ideas as to escape this mess, the monitor began flashing a deep shade of crimson, with the words, "INCOMING TRANSMISSION", pasted in the centre.

Taking notice, and taken aback, the Doctor frowned again, and burrowed his eyebrows into one another. Hovering his finger over the button that would accept the transmission, he hesitated for a moment, before pressing and holding the button down with a single long index finger.

The screen continued to light up with the unsettling shades of crimson, before the words,

"ARMADA, THEY LIVE", filled the screen.

The Doctor stared blankly, not even blinking. He held it for about a minute before slowly walking to the other side of the console, bringing the monitor with him, and then pressing a series of buttons. Finished, he looked up.

"MESSAGE TRANSMITTED FROM UNKNOWN LOCATION"

The Doctor threw his head back, rolling his eyes and let out an exasperated wail.

"Well, that's extremely helpful isn't it!?" he shouted at the monitor, his accent beginning to drip from his mouth.

Calming down, the Doctor leant forward onto his elbows and buried his face into his hands. He sighed, and allowed his eyes to peek through his fingers.

"That sandwich is going to have to wait a little while longer I'm afraid".

The Doctor's attention was suddenly gripped a hold of by a small gentle knocking against the TARDIS doors. Three of them to be precise. He glanced over in their direction. The three knocks came again. He stood up straight and cautiously began making his way to the doors.

"Ohhhhh, that's new…"

Knock knock knock.

"Ohhhhh, that is, _very_ new"

His eyes had gained a fiery tint to them, wild with desire to know and understand the impossible. In this scenario, who or what was knocking, and why.

He gently gripped both handles, put on his best, "Who-are-you-and-what-do-you-want" face, and on a mental count of three, flung the doors open.

Despite it being an impossibility and out of the many things that could've been knocking for entry from within the time vortex, the Doctor had suspected many things. Some misplaced cosmic debris, a small _very_ lost child, or perhaps even River assuming her getaway driver had arrived. What he hadn't expected, was a seven foot twelve, jet-black monstrosity of a robot. It was humanoid at least, with its physical build based on that of perhaps a pro wrestler. It had an exoskeleton that protected most of its body, made up of several large plates, ultimately giving the robot a sleek and futuristic touch. Its head was held up with four separate metallic support beams, small amounts of gas escaping as it constantly adjusted itself. The head was devoid of any features, save for a diamond shaped gathering of four, sky blue lights, which flickered on and off, one at a time.

His eye level at its abdomen, his nose inches away, the Doctor slowly craned his neck almost at a 90-degree angle as an attempt to make eye contact with the enormity that stood before him.

Struggling to find the right words, the Doctor swallowed.

"Umm… Hello! Are you lost?"

The robot lowered itself down with a hiss of escaping air, and took two steps to enter the TARDIS, the Doctor taking about five backwards, his eyes remaining on the robots head.

The lights on its head flickered all of sudden in a dramatic, random fashion before, surprisingly, it spoke. Its voice a monotone, raspy, dominating sound.

"Are you the one known as the Doctor?"

He raised an eyebrow again, trying to prevent a smile from crawling onto his face.

"Well, uh… ha, I believe that _I_ asked you a question first, so I'll ask you again: Are you lost?"

The robot, neglecting to acknowledge the Doctor, merely let out a small release of gas in response. It spoke again.

"Repeat. Are you the time-lord known as the Doctor?"

The Doctor blinked, and then rolled his eyes.

"Yessssss…" he replied, elongating the word as a precaution, "Now why don't _you_ tell _me_ -"

The Doctor was not allowed to finish. No sooner had the confirmation come, the robot, with agility surpassing its expected limit, stepped forward and lunged for the Doctor, grabbing him around the neck and lifting him into the air, his legs flailing. The Doctor struggling for breath, the robot took two more steps forward before lifting the Doctor up, and bringing him crashing back down against the console, that met him with a sickening crack, and a flurry of sparks.

Shocked and winded by the sudden outburst. The Doctor clawed desperately at the immoveable hand around his neck, formations of words appearing at his mouth, but with no sound.

The robot finally angled its head to come face to face with the Doctor, the formation of lights in the centre of its face turning from a calming blue, to the same sickening shade of crimson that had appeared upon the monitor.

"You are the Doctor. Mission complete. Scanning incarnation. Incarnation number twelve has been procured"

The other hand of the robot rose at a steady rate to above its head. Morphing, it suddenly changed shape and appearance to resemble a large hypodermic needle. Starting to gain his breath back, the Doctor stared wide-eyed in terror, clutching the hand that was pressing him against the console, his legs still thrashing uselessly beneath him.

Unexpectedly however, instead of thrusting itself into him, the needle wheezed horrifically and shot an enormous amount of a thick green gas directly into the Doctors face. He spluttered and once again tried to form speech.

A croaky, "Why?", was all that he managed.

As the Doctor felt himself slipping away, overwhelming bouts of tiredness darkening the outer rims of his vision, the last thing he heard before fading away into a dim blackness was the robot.

"TARDIS will also be procured for needs vital to-"

|§|

As if it had been all a dream, the Doctor had then woken up in this cell, chained like an animal, no screwdriver, no recipe book, nothing but the clothes on his slightly bruised back. The Doctor pondered over these events. So many questions he had yet to find answers to. What had forced the TARDIS to stop dead in the centre of time vortex? What purpose did that mysterious message serve, "Armada, they live"? And what on earth did the robot mean by "Incarnation number 12 procured?". The Doctor shifted uncomfortably at the thought of that last one. As the eldest of at very least his _known_ incarnations, he was well aware that he was the easiest target should anyone attempt to alter the timeline and harm him in his previous lives. But before he could attempt to fix that problem, perhaps the most important issue was as to how would he make it out of here.

There was a loud hiss, and the wall outside of the horizontal lasers split in two, sliding open to reveal the giant robot that the Doctor encountered previously. Lifting his head up from the ground, the Doctor caught glance of it.

"Oh, it's you. Hello Tiny! You don't mind if I call you Tiny do you? Nice little inaptronym for you. I assumed you didn't have a name. What can I do for you?"

He clambered to his feet, the shackles rattling. He bent backwards in an attempt to click his back.

"Nice slam dunk by the way. I'll be dealing with chronic back pains for a good few hundred years"

Tiny took two gigantic strides forward and faced the Doctor through the laser bars. The Doctor stepped forward to face him as far as he could, the chains pulling his arms behind him, and leant forward so that his nose was almost brushing the laser.

"Are you aware of the locations of your former incarnations?"

The Doctor made no reaction.

"To be honest Tiny, this is a matter of upmost importance that I would prefer to discuss with the one in charge here"

The formation of lights flickered for a moment, processing the information.

"There is no one in charge here. You will answer to me."

The Doctor stifled a laugh.

"Really? Oh come on now Tiny, don't try and play that card. When you boarded my TARDIS, _you_ were doing the dirty work. _You_ were sent onto _my_ ship to capture me, to fulfil an order given by _your_ superior, trust me, all that comes as common knowledge nowadays, but from that, I'd gather that _you_ are the foot soldier of this operation, so let me reiterate. I would like to speak to the one in charge here. Do you, _understand_?"

Silence surrounded them both for a moment, neither of them saying anything, before the laser beams without warning dissipated into nothingness, and all four cuffs clicked open and fell to the floor. The Doctor looked down at his wrists and slowly began rubbing them and stretching out his legs.

"I will take you to the one in charge"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

"Really? That easy?"

"Follow"

Rotating with three huge footsteps, Tiny turned and made his way out of the door, the Doctor reluctant to follow, regardless of the fact that he had just received exactly what he wanted.

"Follow"

The monotone of his voice was making it difficult to determine whether he was becoming impatient or not.

"You're…taking me to your leader?"

"Yes"

"Because I asked?"

"Yes"

"And… your leader is… _okay_ … with that?"

"Yes"

The Doctors eyebrow was in danger of disappearing into his hair if it went any higher. With extreme precaution, the Doctor stepped out of his cell, and into the corridor behind Tiny.

"Follow", Tiny said for a third time.

The corridor was a complete and utter reversal of the cell, blinding white marble stone gleaming at every corner. Stunning pillars and immaculate statues of great mythical cosmic gods and rulers lined the place. Above, the ceiling, pasted in flawless paintings of legends and history. The Doctor spun slowly around, head in the air, like a child in a toyshop that was just told he could have anything that he wanted. Following Tiny for what seemed to be an eternity, the corridor evened out into a gigantic ballroom of sorts, where the magnitude of beauty and serenity was multiplied tenfold. At one side of the room, was an unfathomably large glass panel, allowing for viewing outwards. The Doctor diverted from his course behind Tiny, and half walked, half ran over towards it. The sight that greeted him was truly incredible, even to a man as experienced with the universe as the Doctor.

Space. Lined and dotted with a billion star systems, three planets of blinding neon colours that even the Doctor was unable to name or place in the universe, staggeringly close to wherever it was that the Doctor was being held captive. Above the planets, a network of ecosystems was clear to see, space traffic racing about, entire colonies living their lives in this uncharted section of the universe.

The Doctor, with both hands on the glass, let out a small chuckle, and shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm in the Sistine chapel.", he said to himself mockingly, "In space".

Not many things could've distracted the Doctor from his unseen wonder. The Doctor caught glance however, of something strange at his feet, something that he had missed in his hastiness earlier.

He bent down, and scooped up gently, the frayed and burnt remains of multi-coloured scarf.

Only a few stitches, the Doctor sniffed them, and instantly, he gained a forlorn and defeated expression. Tiny's voice sounded from behind him.

"You will follow, or you will be returned to your cell with force."

The Doctor gripped the stitches of the scarf, his hand shaking. Not in anger. But with fear. He put his hands over his eyes, and pulled down his face trying to get his thoughts together. He stood up and stuffed the scarf remains hastily into his coat pocket.

"Right. Yes. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "Lead on, Tiny"

Tiny lead the Doctor out of the ballroom and into another corridor, darkened this time. The Doctor had no idea where he was, who was behind his captivity, or how long it would take him to get to him. But he was certain.

He gripped the stitches inside his pocket, and made a mental promise to himself, in this life, and every other.

He was going to find out.

* * *

 _Ah, the magician. One of my favourites. Dark and twisted at times, yet humorous and caring deep down on the inside. Much like the one with the umbrella. Poor soul. Ah well, the Doctor wins some and, he loses some. As I'm sure you're aware by now, this is one he loses. You know, there_ _is_ _joy in destroying everything a man stands for. But for the life of me, I can't seem to put my finger on the reason why… Ah well. I'm sure I'll remember in time. Enjoy this little reminiscent of the magicians escape. Judging by if the wizard can keep him alive, my legacy will be set in motion. Oh, of course. It already has._


	6. Chapter 5: Awakening

_Sorry for the late upload for those that are enjoying this. The short version is that I had one final exam to study for, life kept throwing things at me that kept getting in the way, and I had a small issue that involved me writing this entire chapter out, and then deciding that I needed to completely and utterly rewrite it. I_ _will_ _attempt to update regularly for the next month, but after that, it's the summer holidays, so it definitely_ _will_ _be regular when that rolls around. For those who take their time to read this, thank you so much, and thank you so much for those two followers and for that first review, you all know who you are :)_

* * *

 _Presently_

Attempting to drift off into a light snooze, the 1st Doctor was kept awake however, by the consistent bleeping of the heart monitor beside to him.

Although the TARDIS had an infirmary, it was a section of the TARDIS that the Doctor scarcely ever used. The design similar to that of the rest of the interior, it was small, miniature roundels on every other wall, and was hexagonal in shape, with cupboards and shelves lined with medicines and whatnot, and with one or two beds in the corners of the room. Ironically, it was rather basic and underused, and thanks to that, the Doctor only had access to the most basic of medical equipment at his disposal. Albeit, he was called the Doctor for a reason.

He had done all that he could for the man. In terms of major injuries, several issues had been raised. The large piece of glass that had embedded itself into the mans side had gone deeper than the Doctor had anticipated. He had removed it, but some damage had clearly been done. By no means fatal, but a problem nonetheless. The relocating of the mans shoulder to its socket had also proven a rather tedious and unpleasant task for the Doctor, but back in its proper place, the mans arm lay gently in a sling. The case of his ribcage was a unfortunate one as well. Five ribs on the left side of his torso had been cracked with a clean break. Making use of the equipment directly available, the Doctor had managed to support the man with a large cast that would limit his movements, but it would be much better than suffering in extreme agony whenever he twisted his upper

body. He'd be a stiff as a bone, but safe. He had then made sure he was comfortable, and hooked him up to a heart monitor he had scavenged from the depths of the TARDIS, that he had borrowed from earth in the early 21st century as a souvenir.

Major injuries aside, the Doctor had cleaned the man up the best he could, and tended to any prominent and outstanding cuts and bruises with extreme wariness, until his face was plastered with removable stitches and miniature bandages.

As for his apparel, the Doctor had taken the liberty to place him a in a simple, comfortable, 18th century sleeping gown, again, borrowed from a trip to earth in that era, while placing his ruined clothing in the TARDIS Laundromat room, in hopes that he would be able to tailor them back to their original look.

Now, the Doctor could do no more than wait. He looked down at his watch. Four separate hands stuck out in different directions all moving in different directions and at different speeds. Five hours had passed since he had boarded the TARDIS and began orbiting Gallifrey from a inconspicuous distance.

Accepting that now would most likely be the most improbable time for a nap, the Doctor sighed and rose to his feet, rubbing his eyes. He looked back at the man who lay still on the bed, motionless.

"Perhaps, if you wake… No… _When_ you wake" the Doctor began, "You'd be willing to tell me what an ordinary man like you was doing inside a TARDIS of your own?"

The man gave no reply except for the consistent slow rise and fall of his chest.

The Doctor made a small attempt at a laugh before making his way out of the infirmary and eventually, back into his own console room. White and teal, stark, and wallpapered with roundels, it was just the way the Doctor liked it. He stepped up to the console and rested his cane against, before gently twisting and prodding a few knobs and buttons.

"Well… This is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into, isn't it?"

Whether he was talking to the man or himself was a mystery. He chuckled.

"The Doctor". Ever since he had chosen his name, it had changed him. Who he was. He was no longer a small crying child in an old rustic barn down on Gallifrey. No. He was an explorer. One that didn't see eye-to-eye with the high councils rules, and with his granddaughter at his side, and a twinkle in his eye, he had stolen a TARDIS and ran away. But the Doctor could never be so sure. Perhaps he never did run away. Perhaps instead of running from _his_ problems… He was running _to_ the problems of others. Almost as if they needed him, and if someone needed him, the Doctor had already made that promise to be there. Never interfere with the disputes of other planets, only observe? Pish-posh, what nonsense the time-lords would come up with. No. He wasn't interfering. He was going wherever he was _needed._ So many planets and stories of earth told of a saviour in a blue box, a scientist, a wizard, a Doctor, helping to protect the peace of their land. The Doctor smiled. He remembered all of his adventures. All of them. Every single one. Not one was more or less important or fun than the other. He looked down at his hands. How much longer could he keep this up? He was aware of the fabled regeneration process, but hoped deep down that he would never have to tap into its power for the first time. It would change him. Perhaps this time, not for the better…

The Doctor paced slowly around the TARDIS console with these thoughts floating peacefully around his mind. Perhaps now was not a time to be considering his future. He still had plenty of time left for adventure in this body, another hundred years at least. Besides, right now, he had the small issue of what to do with a strange, seemingly comatose man that had quite literally crash-landed into the Doctors life. The question of what to do now with him was a difficult one. It would be impossible to tell if and when the man would awaken, and when he did, if he would even be capable of rational thought. The Doctor would've perhaps set a course for a planet at random as a small gift to the man. A get-well-soon present, if you will. Maybe even the planet that was a hospital, to see if they could awaken him, or was it a hospital that was a planet? What stopped him from doing any of this however, was a muffled cry, followed by the painful sound of something crumpling in a heap. Both sounds came from the infirmary.

Immediately, the Doctor panicked. He grabbed his cane, rushed back to the infirmary, and was met with the sight of the man, on the floor, his eyes darting around with a dead stare at his surroundings, his one free arm, flailing around uselessly in search of anything familiar to him. His eyes were bloodshot, and his pupils were almost invisible. It was clear that he couldn't see.

"Wh-Where am I?"

He spoke with a thick and rough Scottish tongue.

The Doctor quickly knelt down and attempted to help him back to his bed.

"Now, now, keep calm young man. You're in shock. You were involved in a horrendous crash, do you remember?"

The man allowed the Doctor to help him back into bed, but never changed his expression from one of fear and confusion.

"I-I…", he swallowed. "I can't see".

The Doctor swallowed, and quickly considering the man's symptoms, fetched a small medical torch and a small rectangular bottle filled with luminous green pills from a shelf. Making his way back to the man, the Doctor emptied a single pill into his hand.

"Swallow this, and then just do me a favour, and keep your eyes open"

The man nodded, and did so. Examining his left eye with the torch, the Doctor watched his pupil grow larger, and the whiteness return to his eye.

"There we are. Is that better?"

The man didn't answer. He merely blinked a few times, getting used to the sudden return of his vision. He was still quite clearly disorientated and confused, but thankfully, alive. He began slowly feeling over his face, softly brushing over all of the plasters and stitches. He then looked down at his arm in a sling, and winced as he tried to move it again.

"How are you feeling?" was the question that the Doctor felt most appropriate to ask.

Once again, the man didn't answer, but slowly turned his head until he was staring the Doctor directly in the face. He seemed to have regained his bearings for the moment, and stared at the Doctor with a look not unlike the one he had been attempting to look around the room with.

"You…"

The Doctor blinked.

"You? What do you mean 'You?'"

The man continued to awe at the Doctor with the look that showed no signs of being either positive or negative. Without warning, and with immense struggle, he heaved himself to his feet. Staggering slightly, and mutely refusing the assistance of the Doctor, he grabbed his cane that had been resting against the frame of the door, and proceeded to limp out of the infirmary.

"No… no, no, no, no, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. Not him, not now, not like _this_ "

Frozen in a state of shock himself, the Doctor gathered his thoughts and tried to place a hard theory on what had just occurred within the last few minutes. Accepting that for once, theories and hypotheses just wouldn't cut it this time, he hurried off in pursuit of the man.

Ahead of him, the man, having gained a small head start, burst through a set of double doors that led into the console room. For one single moment, there was silence, before the man, having taken in his surroundings, let out a desperate moan, and staggered around the main console, pressing a random array of buttons, and whispering incomprehensible and incomplete sentences about a dark figure, a ruined universe, and a sandwich.

The Doctor followed through the double doors and immediately yet cautiously approached the man, believing him to be delirious.

"Good sir" he said, his voice teetering on the border between calm and frustration.

"If it wasn't abnormally clear to you by now, you are seriously injured. It's a miracle that you have woken up, let alone the fact that you are capable of coherent speech and movement. Now. If you don't mind, _I_ would personally quite like to know what the _devil_ is going on here!"

The man stopped muttering and looked blankly at the Doctor.

Though breathing heavily, he spoke quietly and in a much calmer tone than earlier, "You don't know who I am… Do you?"

The Doctor, taking a deep breath to calm himself, replied slowly.

"Of course not. I've never seen you before in my life."

The man made a wheezing sound that the Doctor assumed to be an attempt at a laugh. He began to limp slowly back in the direction of the infirmary.

"Of course you haven't. Ah well, give it a millennia or two. I'll be popping up _very_ frequently for you"

The Doctor straightened himself up and clutched the lapels of his coat.

"Millennia? So. It's true. You're a time traveller like myself?"

"Clearly. You rescued me from my TARDIS I'm assuming?"

"Indeed. A thank you wouldn't go amiss you know. And you know me somehow?"

"Oh most definitely"

"Well then? Who are you?"

The man didn't look round but stopped limping and stood swaying slightly just underneath the double doors.

"And there's the million dollar question we were looking for. Congratulations, Doctor, you've just won a lifetimes supply of jelly babies and a small stuffed dog. Fetch a me a guitar, I'll play you the Congratulations song."

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"Do you perhaps think that we could have a little more professionalism in this

matter?"

The man turned round to face him with an incredulous look on his face.

"Professional? _Us_? Have you even met us? Oh of course, you haven't. Not yet anyway. You're only supposed to meet the dandy, the clown, and the vegetation décor."

The Doctor blinked.

"Us? What on earth are you talking about man?"

The man grinned slightly, the edge of his mouth twitching.

"I didn't want us to meet like this." He gestured to his arm. "Ah well, I suppose that there's three things in this universe that no one has any control over. Politics, your children, and when time travel takes you."

The Doctor eyed the man with the same look of incredulously. The man, catching on, cocked his head, and gave his best, "Come-on" face.

"You still haven't figured it out yet, have you?"

The Doctor, about to respond to the man in a rather undignified fashion, was silenced by the man pulling out the sonic device from the gowns pocket. The Doctor instinctively reached for his own, where he assumed the other should've been. Somehow, the man had regained possession of it right under the Doctors nose.

The two men stood opposite each other, like a standoff, each of them waiting for the other to make a move, until the man spoke, softly, and comforting, almost to sooth the tension he had just created.

"Same software. Different case."

He smiled. The Doctor didn't.

He placed his screwdriver back into his coat pocket, and took a few steps forward, constantly mulling over what words would be the next to roll off of his tongue, until he was directly face to face with the man.

Neither of them said anything. The silence was deafening, and the anticipation of their next words was thick enough to cut. The man did nothing except stare at the Doctor, waiting for some sort of realization to set in. At last, as per the man's desire, it was the Doctor who broke the silence.

He practically whispered, and stared at the ground with his hands behind his back.

"Does it hurt?"

The 12th Doctor smiled weakly.

"Only when we resist"

* * *

 ** _And there we have it. The first meeting of our two, "Heroes". Even I shall admit that the reunion between the youngest and the eldest was heart-warming. Tear jerking, even. It will be interesting to see what plan of action that the two take now. Although, I'll be most surprised if they make it even five minutes into the future. Two incarnations such as them selves forced into the same TARDIS? It's like putting a cat and mouse into a playpen. Ah well, it'll be most entertaining to watch. Will they find their remaining incarnation? Will they understand what "Armada, they live" means? And will they ever learn before it's too late, that I can end their little freedom fight with little more than a click of my fingers? We'll see. But the odds are more than just in my favour. They are one with me._**


End file.
